


The Road (It Just Stretches On)

by orphan_account



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Romance or something, Shitty Mermaid AU, There's gotta be plot somewhere in this, it'll be great maybe probably not, mermaid au, non human stiles, probs the worst thing i've written ngl, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9261980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was a bright, full moon that night, and it made Claudia’s tail seem even more surreal under the moonlight.“Do you miss it, mama?” Stiles asked as he tried to swim closer to her, his wet clothes dragging behind him. “Do you miss the sea?”She shrugged, and spun him around in the water. “Of course I do,” she said. “But one day I’ll pass the secrets onto you, and you’ll remember the sea for me. You’ll be my sea.”Stiles laughed, and Claudia splashed at him with her tail.(Or, the real shitty Merman AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sorry

The first memory that Stiles has is of his mom making ice sculptures for him.

 

She could bend and snap the water to her will, and on hot summer days she’d bring a pitcher of water out to their backyard, and they’d sit in concentration as she created delicate shapes with the water floating in between her hands, before she froze the water with her magic. Then, she’d hand the ice sculpture over to Stiles, so he could eat the sculptures and have some reprieve from the hot California sun.

 

Her favorite shape to make was always an ice lily, with sharp edges and dark veins running through the entire sculpture. Sometimes, Stiles would try to stick them in the freezer to preserve the shape, but it never retained its beauty without Claudia touching the sculptures again with her magic.

 

One time, Stiles concentrated hard on the water, tried to shift his chubby little fingers to resemble Claudia’s delicate, graceful movements. The water didn’t even budge from the pitcher. Stiles pouted, and Claudia laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, my sweetheart,” she said, “that’s quite alright.”

“I just wanna make pretty shapes like you,” Stiles responded, trying hard not to sound sad.

Claudia gave him a smile. “You have to wait a while before your powers manifest,” she said. “Sweetie, there’s never been anyone like you, but I promise, no matter what you do? You’ll be fan _ tastic. _ ”

She made her next sculpture a miniature version of Stiles as a toddler. Stiles stuck that one in the freezer, too, but within a week freezer burn made it seem like a useless lump of ice.

 

***

 

Claudia Stilinski was a mermaid.

 

No, worse than that. She was a castaway, a runaway mermaid. She loved the ocean, of course she did, and she always insisted that to Stiles. But she didn’t love her kingdom, and she didn’t love her position, so she ran.

 

“Or, rather, I swam,” she joked to Stiles.

Stiles always smiled and asked, “Like  _ the Little Mermaid? _ ”

“Not exactly,” she’d always say, “but I think your father’s a bit better than Eric, really.”

 

***

Claudia Stilinski had been an unimportant mermaid--but that should not be mistaken for a lack of power.

 

She once summoned an entire thunderstorm over all of Beacon Hills when she was fighting with John. She could pull water vapor out of the air and juggle it around her fingers easily. Once, she accidentally blasted a boy across her lawn (though, in her defense, he had been bullying her son).

 

Claudia Stilinski was powerful, and she knew, somehow--she knew her son would be stronger.

 

***

 

When Stiles was eight, before Claudia’s sickness set in, they ran into the Talia Hale.

 

It was in a grocery story, of all places, and Stiles had been trying to convince his mom to get him more Lucky Charms, when she stiffened completely. “Stiles,” she said, in a warning tone.

Stiles frowned and immediately said, “I’m sorry Mama, I’ll stop now--”

“No,” she said. “Do you smell that?”

Stiles sniffed the air cautiously. It smelled a bit like the neighbor’s dog, Lucy, and for some reason, peppermint. “What  _ is  _ that?”

 

Talia Hale turned down the aisle of the grocery store, and nearly ran into Claudia.

Claudia grabbed Stiles and put him behind her back quickly, and smiled up at Talia, a woman who was at least a head taller than her. “Sorry, ma’am,” Claudia said kindly.

Talia frowned slightly. She looked from Stiles to Claudia, and then back again, as if she couldn’t figure something out. Stiles gave her his best smile.

“No, it was my fault,” Talia says, at last. Her voice is deep and thick, and spreads peppermint throughout the air. “Have a nice day.”

 

Claudia leaves the store immediately after that, despite only having bought three items on her list. She doesn’t say anything to Stiles until they’re halfway home.

 

“Werewolves,” is the word that she eventually spits out, like a curse word.

Stiles frowns. “What, mama?”

“That lady. Her whole family, I’d bet. She smelled natural-born. Goddammit,  _ werewolves. _ ”

 

Claudia Stilinski never cusses.

 

“What’s so bad about them?” Stiles asks.

“So territorial,” she hisses. “And so determined to start wars. And they can hear when people are lying, smell their nerves, the whole goddamn package. Really difficult to stay hidden when they’re here.”

“But...she didn’t find us out, did she?” Stiles says, thinking about the confusion on her face.

Claudia relaxes her grip on the steering wheel a little bit. “Yeah,” she says, “yeah, she didn’t.”

“How?” Stiles asks.

Claudia shrugs, smiles down at Stiles. “Merpeople have been believed to be dead for years,” she said. “They’re a very secretive people. Plus, I’ve been on land for years, and your father is human. We probably just smell a little off from the rest of the regular folk.”

Her expression turned serious for a moment, though. “Stiles...I need you to promise me something. Just...I know you’re best friends with Scott, but please, don’t tell anyone about us, unless absolutely necessary? And I mean,  _ absolutely necessary. _ ”

 

Stiles nodded, because what else was he supposed to do?

 

***

 

Claudia only showed Stiles her tail once.

 

She’d woken him up in the middle of the night, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Whassup, mama?” Stiles had asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Wanna go to the pool with me?” she’d asked quietly.

“But that’s, like...closed,” Stiles said.

She’d rolled her eyes. “I know that,” she’d said, “I was thinking more along the lines of breaking and entering.”

“Dad’s the Sheriff, Mama,” Stiles said, as if that explained everything.

“So he can bail us out if we get caught,” Claudia said, and grabbed Stiles by the wrist.

 

At the pool, Claudia checked to make sure no humans were around, and smiled at Stiles before jumping in.

 

Stiles stared at her.

 

By the time she came up to the surface, she had a tail.

It was deep violet--the kind you can only find at the bottom of the sea. It was marbled with streaks of silver, and when she moved around in the pool it was nearly silent.

Claudia smiled, and grabbed her son by the hand.

 

It was a bright, full moon that night, and it made Claudia’s tail seem even more surreal under the moonlight.

“Do you miss it, mama?” Stiles asked as he tried to swim closer to her, his wet clothes dragging behind him. “Do you miss the sea?”

She shrugged, and spun him around in the water. “Of course I do,” she said. “But one day I’ll pass the secrets onto you, and you’ll remember the sea for me. You’ll  _ be  _ my sea.”

Stiles laughed, and Claudia splashed at him with her tail.

 

***

 

Claudia dies a year later.

Stiles and John spread her ashes at sea. Stiles tries to feel the sea humming under his skin, tries to understand what Claudia had connected to so naturally.

He feels nothing, and he cries.


	2. Chapter 2

The Hale family goes down in a blaze two weeks before the anniversary of Claudia’s death.

 

Only two of them survive.

 

Stiles’s dad is assigned to the case, and in the nights he comes home and hugs Stiles tighter than necessary.

He smells like werewolf and peppermint, but for once Stiles isn’t scared of the smell. Instead, it makes his chest ache.

 

***

 

Years and years and years pass, and Stiles can’t make ice lilies only using his hands and a small pitcher of water. Stiles’s fingers and toes prune up during baths, and he can only hold his breath for forty five seconds at a time.

So, Stiles moves on. He and Scott make it to high school and onto the lacrosse team, and Lydia Martin with her strawberry blonde hair and perfect teeth become way more fascinating to him than growing a tail in standing water.

 

***

 

Stiles really, really regrets going to look for that stupid body with Scott, though.

Like,  _ really. _

 

***

 

The next day at school, Scott smells like a dog, and something sharp. Maybe cayenne pepper, maybe cinnamon, maybe a bit of both.

 

Nothing like Talia Hale, but somehow still remarkably similar.

 

Stiles refuses to freak out until Scott starts to suddenly be the  _ best  _ at lacrosse.

That’s when he freaks out.

 

***

 

They go to the Hale property, even though everything under Stiles’s skin is buzzing uncomfortably. Scott says he needs his inhaler, but honestly? Stiles doesn’t think it’s very necessary anymore.

 

There’s a strong smell, like a dog but more like a campfire and peppermint.

It’s Derek Hale, because  _ fuck why wouldn’t it be. _

 

“This is private property,” he says. His voice is thick and syrupy, and it spreads peppermint throughout the forest.

 

He glances over at Scott, and Stiles knows he can smell it on him. The sharp smell mixed with dog, clearly marking a new werewolf

Stiles is extremely glad, for once, that he didn’t inherit Claudia’s powers, didn't smell off to a born werewolf like Derek. That dude was scary in a really hot and also a really terrifying way.

 

***

 

It’s not that Stiles is prejudiced against werewolves, or anything.

That’d be ridiculous. They’ve never done anything to him.

Well, Scott tries to attack him, that’s true, but he was out of control. It’s understandable. And Derek Hale is an asshole, but werewolves are territorial and aggressive. It’s not like he expected anything else.   
  


Stiles still goes three weeks without really talking to Scott, though.

It’s not like Scott even notices, at first. It’s the girl with the dimples and the shiny hair, Allison. Stiles understands. If Lydia Martin was his girlfriend, he’d ignore Scott, too.

 

Plus, it just so helps that this is what Stiles wanted in the first place.

He didn't hate Scott. He just didn't know what to do about him.

 

***

 

Scott climbs through Stiles’s window really late, when Stiles is lazily editing an essay.

“Dude,” Scott says. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“We’re talking right now,” Stiles says. “Plus, I dunno. You seemed like you needed the space. Also, why didn’t you just enter through the door, like a regular  _ person? _ ”

Scott blinks. “It’s late. Your dad wouldn’t’ve let me in.”

“Then wait. Like, til tomorrow.”

  
  
  


Scott stares at Stiles. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles sighs. “Nothing.”

“I can tell you’re lying,” Scott says.

“Wow, with your wolfy hearing? How nice,” Stiles says. The sharp, spicy smell of Scott was permeating throughout his room, making him feel dizzy.

  
  
  


Scott stares at Stiles for a while. “So that’s it,” he says, his voice hollow. “You’re jealous.”

Stiles snorts. “Of  _ what? _ Werewolves are just--”

“What, you think I  _ asked  _ for this?” Scott asks, cutting Stiles off. “Because I didn’t--”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, who on  _ earth  _ would want to be bitten by a rabid, crazy werewolf? Certainly not me,” Stiles says. “I’m not jealous, and you can definitely tell I’m not lying. I’m the exact opposite of jealous.”

“Well, you _sound_ like you believe what you’re saying,” Scott says. His eyes are shining dangerously. Stiles wonders if he’s tempted to flash his incredibly threatening little beta eyes at Stiles.

 

“Get  _ over  _ yourself, you aggressive, overgrown baby,” Stiles hisses. “I sure as hell don’t care that you’re a werewolf and I’m not. The only problem is, I don’t want you to be a werewolf at  _ all,  _ for your own good.”

“What the fuck makes you think that you know what’s best for me?”

“You don’t even want this!” Stiles grits his teeth. “Why the hell are we even arguing?”

“Because you won’t accept me as a fucking werewolf,” Scott says. “God, I haven’t changed,  Stiles!”

Stiles stares at Scott. “This isn’t some thinly-veiled message on homophobia,” Stiles says. “You  _ have  _ changed. You’ve got claws for hands and a propensity for war!”

 

Scott glares at Stiles for a while, and doesn’t even say a word. He just takes off through the window, leaving Stiles alone in his room.

Stiles slams his head against his desk in response.

 

***

 

The problem is, Scott’s right, in a way.

He can’t just quit being a werewolf. And God knows that Stiles can’t help Scott with this, but still.

Just because Scott smells like he needs a dog bath now, doesn’t mean that Stiles should abandon him.

 

He thinks about his mom’s words spat out through clenched teeth, about the problems with werewolves.

When had she ever  _ really  _ met one, though? How could she  _ say  _ if Talia Hale was aggressive and territorial and mean?

 

Stiles didn’t want to give up on Scott just because he howled at the full moon.

For God’s sake, his mom howled at the full moon, in her own way.

 

***

 

Stiles grits his teeth, sets his shoulders, and walks straight up to Scott and Allison.

“I need to talk to Scott,” he tells Allison, who just raises her hands in response and walks away.

 

Scott glares after her, like she’s some sort of traitor. “What the  _ hell  _ do you want?

“I was wrong,” Stiles says. “I was totally in the wrong, and I’m really, really sorry. About everything.”

Scott nods slowly. Stiles wonders if Scott’s considering punching him in the face. “I didn't want this,” Scott says. “I never did, and I just wanted my friend by my side.”

 

_ Goddamn, _ Stiles thinks hopelessly.  _ This really  _ is  _ an allegory for homophobia. _

 

“I know,” Stiles says. “I was really wrong.”

Scott smiles at Stiles, and pulls him into a light hug. “I know,” Scott says, and Stiles snorts.

“We’ll be okay, right?” Stiles asks.

“Duh,” Scott says.

* * *

“Dude,” Scott says to him one day, “you kinda smell...off.”

 

Stiles’s heart speeds up, and Scott takes it the wrong way. “Not in, like, a cancer-y way! Or even a bad way. Just...different?”

 

Stiles takes a deep breath, then two, then asks, “Different from how I normally smell, or different from other people?”

“From other people,” Scott says, with certainty, and Stiles refuses to let his heart stop. “Just...like...cleaner. Does that make any sense?”

Stiles balls his hands into fists and forces a laugh. “Thanks, Scott. Always nice to know that I have good hygiene.”

Scott laughs too, and only gives Stiles a weird look once or twice more that day.

 

***

 

Peter Hale offers Stiles the bite, and that’s when Stiles realizes just how serious all of this is.

 

Which, quite frankly, sounds ridiculous, but this is the first time Stiles is so close that he can smell the insanity on Peter, the rancid desire for power. Stiles’s heart speeds up and Peter thinks Stiles is lying when he says  _ no, please, for the love of God don’t bite me. _

 

Stiles flinches back, wonders what would happen when a descendent of a mermaid got bitten by a werewolf. Probably nothing bad, considering Stiles was useless as a merman, but still. He really didn’t want to test it out.

Peter’s eyes change abruptly, from amused to suspicious, and Stiles backs up again. Peter frowns. “You’re not lying…” he mutters to himself.

When he drops the subject in favor of other crazy evil plans, Stiles breathes a mental sigh of relief.

 

***

 

Lydia’s immune to Peter’s bite and Stiles should care more than he currently does.

She should be his first priority--his only priority, because Peter’s dead and Kate’s dead and Derek’s the Alpha and everything’s maybe gonna be alright, but instead Stiles feels sick, sicker than he’s ever felt in his entire life.

 

His legs feel like molten lead every time he tries to walk, and every time he breathes there’s a sharp ache, like all the air is escaping his lungs through a hole in his chest. He’s pale and shaking, and everything he eats gets thrown up seconds later.

 

His dad is worried about him, really worried, so Stiles says it must be just the flu, no need to worry at all, it’ll be fine of course.

His dad nods, because what else could it be? Stiles wasn't even running a fever. 

 

But Stiles feels like his bones are starting to decay inside his body, and by the fifth day he can’t even manage to get out of bed to throw up, and his dad’s gonna take him to the hospital as soon as he gets home from his shift, only waiting because Stiles convinced him to.

 

That, of course, is when Scott shows up.

 

He must’ve gotten worried, since Stiles wasn’t at school and didn’t even bother to text him anymore. Scott climbs in through the window during what should be second period on a Friday.

 

“You’re skipping school,” Stiles says hoarsely.

Scott, inexplicably, smiles. “So are you,” he says, slapping Stiles’s arm, “You don’t even smell sick--”

He stops talking suddenly, and presses his hand firmly on Stiles’s chest. Black veins sprout up and down Scott’s arm, but Stiles doesn’t really feel a difference in his pain levels.

 

“Holy shit,” Scott says, and he--he sounds terrified.

Stiles would be, too, if he could gather the energy. “What?”

“You’re dying,” Scott says. “Oh my god, Stiles, you’re--”

“What is it?” Stiles asks. “If it’s supernatural, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

 

Scott shakes his head really quickly. “No, no it’s not that, it’s not--you’re not even sick. It’s just like...you’re just  _ dying. _ ”

 

“Wow, how very specific,” Stiles says dryly, but Scott bites his lip.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says.

“No, Scott, you don’t have to do that, my dad’s gonna do it when he gets home from his shift,” Stiles protests.

“No,” Scott says, and he looks actually, honest-to-god serious. “We’re doing this. Now.”

Stiles wants to argue more, but Scott picks him up like a rag doll and carries him to his Jeep, and Stiles doesn’t even have the strength to push himself down.

 

***

 

All the tests come back negative.

Every. Single. One.

 

Melissa McCall would normally murder Stiles for wasting her time like this, but apparently he clearly looks minutes away from death and ready to shatter at any moment.

 

So, instead, she’s nervous, flighty. “I--I can run more tests, things we don’t usually scan for,” she promises. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, I  _ swear. _ ”

Stiles shakes his head. “That’s all right for today,” he says softly. He knows, deep in his heart, that this isn’t natural. This is something else entirely. “Thanks, though.”

Melissa hesitates for a moment, before wrapping him in a loose hug.

“You’ll be okay,” she promises, with a slight hitch in her voice that Stiles can’t stand to listen to. “I know you’ll be fine.”

 

Stiles tries hard not to cry, and when Scott leads Stiles out of the hospital (slowly, so slowly, and everything  _ aches _ ) Stiles pretends not to notice the tears gathering up at the base of Scott’s eyes.

 

When they get to the Jeep, Scott says, “I’m taking you to Deaton’s. Then, if that doesn’t work, to Derek’s.”

 

He says it so evenly, so steadily, Stiles is amazed.

 

Then he thinks about it. “No,” he says, “no, no, no, I can’t--I don’t want the bite, Scott.”

Scott kneads his hands against his jeans. “I know,” he says, “but...I’m not--not gonna lose you, and you can’t do that to your dad. So, please. It’s just a last resort.”

Stiles sighs. “I know you think that, but God, Scott, it’s not--the bite, that’ll just kill me faster.”

Scott looks over at him. “I know you’re weak and everything right now, but I don’t think you’d reject the bite. And...and I know that you don't like werewolves, I _get that,_ but you've stuck by me and I'm gonna stick by you. No matter what." Stiles kind of wants to scream, because Scott is just _not getting it_.

“It’s not that, it’s because--”

 

And then, just like that, everything slots into place.

Pain in his legs. Like his bones aren’t where they belong. Breathing is hard.

Like he’s drowning on land.

 

Oh. Shit.

 

Scott’s still looking at him, and Stiles swallows. “I need you to take me home,” he says carefully.

Scott stares at Stiles like he’s insane.  _ “What?” _

 

Stiles swallows. “I’m not gonna die, but you just--you just gotta trust me.”

“On  _ what? _ ” Scott hisses.

“On this.” Stiles takes a deep breath. “It’s an--inherited thing. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out, honestly.”

 

Scott narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t detect a lie. Of course he doesn’t.

“Fine,” he says, “but if you’re not better by tomorrow, we go to Deaton.”

“Of course,” Stiles says.

 

***

 

Stiles waits for Scott to get back to his house before he sneaks off to the pool.

It’s not that he can’t tell his dad. His dad knew about his mom, even if he didn’t know about all the werewolf stuff. Claudia never wanted to worry him.

 

But if Stiles is wrong--well, he doesn’t want to dash his dad’s hopes. His dad was the only family left.

 

It’s the middle of February, and the middle of a Tuesday, so Stiles figures that no one will be at the pool. It takes Stiles too long to get to the pool, though. All he’s got left is a well of determination and fear of dying and a fuck ton of pain in his fucking legs.

He probably could’ve changed in the bathtub, but he wasn’t exactly sure how these merfolk things worked. He only ever saw his mom change once, and it was at a pool.

  
  


Once he gets there, though, he’s terrified in all the ways he never has been.

 

He’s human, human and  _ normal.  _ That seemed to be his entire personality for his entire goddamn life, and now he might not be and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.

But he’s also in a lot of pain and apparently dying, so he pulls off his jeans and dives into the water.   
  
  


The first thing he notices is the chemicals in the water. It tastes wrong, acrid and sharp, but his eyes don’t burn when he opens them underwater, letting him see all throughout the blue water.

 

The second thing he notices is that he isn’t holding his breath, and he’s not breathing, but he’s fine. He touches his neck and  _ holyshitthosearefuckinggills _ and he nearly screams.

Instead, he surfaces from the water and takes a big swallow of air.

 

Then he looks down, and almost yelps. Again.

 

He had a  _ tail. _

A light blue one, marbled with silver and holy fuck it was there and he wasn’t dreaming and he was in a fucking public pool and he really didn’t know how to change back and  _ holy fuck. _

 

He was a goddamn merman. 

 

***

 

Apparently, once he beached himself on concrete, he shrunk back down to human size with human legs and no gills, which was good. He was still wet, even. No suspicion. Except for the fact that he was breaking and entering, but whatever.

 

Stiles manages to get home fifteen minutes before his dad, which was good. He sits himself down on the couch, wringing his hands together and texting Scott for the first time in three days, saying  _ it’s okay I’m okay now. _

Stiles doesn’t get a reply yet, which is just as well. He doesn’t know how he’d explain any of this.

 

When his dad gets home, his face goes through a mixture of different emotions in a concerningly short period of time before settling on surprise.

“Kiddo, you feeling better?” he says, putting a hand on Stiles’s forehead.

 

Stiles squares his shoulders. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “But there’s, uh--well. Apparently I got more of mom’s genetics than I thought.”

John looked at his son for a while. “How much?” He says evenly.

“Definitely the tail. Um, and the gills and stuff. Dunno about the magic stuff, and I, uh, always had stronger senses than a regular human.”

His dad laughs. “I know, kid, I haven’t been able to eat red meat in this house for  _ years. _ ”

 

Stiles laughs nervously. “Yeah. Oh, and I have something else I need to talk to you about.”

 

John raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Werewolves.”


End file.
